Coughing Cowboy
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: "You ain't hawkin' headlines without a voice," Crutchie chuckled. Jack coughed a final time and asked in an even huskier voice, "Well, how am I s'pposed to sell papes? Folks need to hear a headline!" "Stop talkin'," Crutchie said. "Just smile." (In which Jack loses his voice and Crutchie saves the day) (One-shot)


**Author's Note: Hi! This is a quick pre-strike one-shot that popped into my head this morning. It's basically a bunch of Jack and Crutchie brotherly fluff, because I love those two too much.**

 **I was considering starting a collection of one-shots. What do you guys think? If you like the idea, could you give me some prompts? Thanks!**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Leave a review if you liked it! :)**

 **That's all I've got to say! Enjoy!**

 **P. S. There's a virtual cookie for anyone who notices the slight Hamilton reference that's in there as a result of me listening to "Aaron Burr, Sir" on repeat yesterday.**

* * *

The sun rose above the skyline of Manhattan. Jack stood on the roof watching it rise, as per usual. Then, he heard a voice from behind him.

"Mornin' Jack!" Crutchie beamed, walking up to Jack.

Jack glanced at Crutchie and grinned. "Hey Crutch," He tried to say, but it came out as barely a whisper.

"What was that?" Crutchie asked.

"Hey Crutch," Jack repeated, but it still came out as a whisper. Jack furrowed his eyebrows."Crutchie." He whispered. "Crutch-ie." He said it slower that time, as if slowimg down would help him be louder.

"You okay?" Crutchie questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm fine!" Jack rasped, his voice cracking loudly on the word "fine," which promptly sent him into a coughing fit.

"Hey, Jack, what's the matter?" Crutchie asked, taking a step closer to him. "You sick?"

Jack shook his head, still coughing. "I ain't...sick!" He said in between coughs. He cleared his throat one more time. "I don't know what's gotten into me!" He added, still hoarse.

"It sounds like you're sick," Crutchie said, his eyebrows knitting together and his face falling."Maybe you should take the day off."

"No!" Jack's voice cracked again and he blushed. "I ain't sick, for sure. I feel fine."

"You sure don't sound fine," Crutchie responded doubtfully.

"I's perfectly fine," Jack insisted. "Don't worry about me, Crutch. Now, why don't we go down and get breakfast while it's still hot?"

Crutchie looked at him with concern. "I don't know if _you_ should come. I could bring ya breakfast."

Jack shook his head again. "Let it go, Crutchie. I'm okay!"

Crutchie surveyed Jack for a moment more and sighed. "Alright. But, hey, the moment somethin' seems off with you, Jack, you'se comin' right back here, deal?"

It was Jack's turn to sigh. "Deal."

* * *

"Good mornin'!" Specs grinned to Jack and Crutchie once they arrived at the Distibution Center.

"Mornin'!" Crutchie smiled.

"Hey Specs," Jack whispered.

Specs looked at Jack expectantly. "Good mornin'." He repeated, thinking Jack hadn't heard him.

"I said 'good mornin'!'' Jack rasped, with yet another voice crack on 'said.'

"He didn't hear you 'cause you got no voice!" Crutchie said pointedly.

"You don't sound so good, Jack," Specs frowned.

"I sound fine," Jack grumbled hoarsely.

"What's up with Cowboy's voice?" Race asked.

"Sounds like he got the wrong kind of horse!" Jojo laughed.

"Ha-ha," Jack smirked. "Very funny."

Then, he turned to Wiesel and said, "A hundred papes please,"

"What?" Wiesel asked.

Jack sighed and whispered, "Oh, c'mon, you heard me, Weasel."

Wiesel shook his head. "No, I didn't," He deadpanned. "And, it's-"

"Wiesel, yeah, yeah," Jack scoffed annoyedly. "Just, gimme the usual, please."

"Alright," Wiesel smirked and handed him the stack of newspapers.

Jack shoved all but one of them into his bag and reviewed the headline. Then, walking out into the street, he shouted, "Extra! Extra!" This caused his voice to crack about ten different ways and sent him into yet another coughing fit.

Crutchie hobbled up to him quickly. "Woah, Jack!" He exclaimed. "What're ya doin'?"

"Hawkin'...the...headline!" Jack sputtered in the midst of coughs. "What's it...sound like?!"

"Yeah, you ain't hawkin' headlines without a voice," Crutchie chuckled.

Jack coughed a final time and asked in an even huskier voice, "Well, how am I s'pposed to sell papes? Folks need to hear a headline!"

"Stop talkin'," Crutchie said. "Just smile."

"What?" Jack raised an eybrow. "Crutchie, that don't make any-"

"Sshh!" Crutchie cut him off with a grin. "Like I says, it takes a smile that spreads like butter!" He took a pleasure in saying this. Usually, it was Jack giving him the advice on how to sell, not the other way around.

"Yeah, but you talk when you smile," Jack whispered.

"Smile," Crutchie said. "Leave the rest to me."

With that, the younger boy hobbled up to a woman passing by. "Extra! Extra! 'Ragin' Blizzard Headed Towards Manhattan!'" The woman looked at Crutchie with interest and he added, "But, ya didn't hear it from me, Miss. Take it from my pal, Jack!"

Crutchie glanced at a surprised-looking Jack, giving him his cue to smile with his bright, green eyes. Jack shook the look of shock off his face and grinned at the woman hopefully.

The woman smiled back and said, "I'll take one paper, sir."

Crutchie practically glowed, proud that his plan had worked.

Jack traded the paper for a handful of coins and whispered a "Thank you."

"Thanks, madam!" Crutchie beamed.

As she walked away, Jack turned to Crutchie and croaked, "Hey, you didn't have to do that. How's you gonna make any money for yourself?"

"We'll split the profit today," Crutchie said. "But, I ain't doin' sixty/forty like you do with most deals, Jack. Fifty/fifty, fair and square."

Jack grinned. "Fifty/fifty, it is."

* * *

Many papers and many hours later, Jack and Crutchie found themselves on some of their last few papes. After another successful sale, Crutchie glanced at his best friend and saw his eyelids drooping. "Hey, Jack, you doin' alright?"

Startled, Jack jumped a bit and looked at Crutchie. Then, he sighed and rubbed his eyelids. "Yeah, I'm good." He whispered.

"You look beat," Crutchie said, his voice laced with concern.

Jack shook his head drowsily and mumbled, "Nah, I's wide awake."

"You don't look wide awake," Crutchie countered. "How's about you call it a day?"

"No, no," Jack rasped, waving his hand lazily. "We's almost sold 'em all. We's only got," He looked down at his bag and glanced over the papers in there. "Not that many left."

"Jack," Crutchie squinted at his friend suspiciously. He stood on his toes and pressed his hand to Jack's forehead, then quickly tore it away. "Ah! You'se burnin' up!"

"No I ain't," Jack argued, his hoarse voice sounding even sleepier. "I's actually really cold." He paused, then added, "I's also really hot."

Crutchie furrowed his eyebrows. "Jack, you'se sick."

Jack sighed. "C'mon, I c'n sell a few more papes..." He murmured with a couple of coughs following it.

Crutchie swung his crutch-free arm around Jack and said, "It's back to the Lodging House with you, Jack. You promised I could bring you back as soon as somethin' was off."

Jack finally relented and gave Crutchie a tired grin. "Alright. A deal's a deal, I guess."

Crutchie grinned back with relief. "Good. Now, let's get outta here, you coughin' cowboy."

* * *

Jack sat in his bunk, bundled in a pile of blankets, sketching something in his lap. Snow slapped the windows violently, the day's headline ringing true. Crutchie sat at edge of Jack's bed, holding his good leg to his chest, just like he'd been ever since they got back to the Lodging House.

"Hey, Crutchie, you should go," Jack spoke up, not taking his eyes off his drawing. "I don't wanna get you sick, too." He knew that Crutchie had a weak immune system.

"Nah," Crutchie shook his head defiantly. "I ain't leavin' you alone. Whenever I's sick, you'se always right there with me."

Jack coughed and looked up at Crutchie. "Thanks," He whispered.

"Oh, lemme grab somethin'!" Crutchie exclaimed. He hopped up and grabbed his crutch. Then, he hobbled over to his bunk, pulled something out of his bag, and headed back towards Jack. He dropped a handful of coins in Jack's lap. "Fifty/fifty," He said, with a grin.

Jack grinned back. "Thanks," He said again. "And, hey, you know what? You was great today! You'se an even better seller than I thought."

Crutchie shrugged. "I learned from the best."

Jack smiled, leaning back and closing his eyes. "You'se makin' me blush, kid," He muttered sleepily.

Crutchie simpered, but, after a moment of silence, the grin faded. "Hey Jack," He asked quietly.

Jack could hear the worry in his voice. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

Crutchie leaned his crutch against the wall and sat down carefully, frowning. He glanced at the snowy window and stammered, "Do you-do you think you'll be better soon?"

Jack opened one eye and saw the sheer anxiety written across Crutchie's face. "Why's it a question?"

Crutchie sighed. "Well," He began, his voice small and nervous. "It's just...sickness is scary. You never really know how it's gonna turn out."

Jack saw that Crutchie had his hand on his bad leg and quickly understood. "Oh, Crutchie," He replied hoarsely. "Trust me, I'll be fine. It ain't anythin' serious. It's just a cold, bud."

"A cold with a fever," Crutchie argued, suddenly sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. "How do you know?"

Jack put a hand on Crutchie's shoulder. "Hey kid, has I ever lied to you before?" He questioned.

Crutchie shook his head and mumbled, "No."

"See?" Jack mumbled. "I'll be okay. And, y'know, it's thanks to you."

"Really?" Crutchie asked, a small smile appearing on his freckled face.

"Yeah," Jack whispered, closing his eye again. "I wouldn't of come in and rested of it wasn't for you. Thanks."

Crutchie smiled a bit wider."It's my pleasure."

"You're doin' good, Crutch," He mumurmed. "You're doin' good."

Crutchie glanced over and saw that Jack had drifted off to sleep. He smirked, picked up Jack's sketchbook, and tossed the blanket over his sleeping friend. Then, he looked at the sketchbook to see a drawing of two boys. There was a tall one with a smile and a shorter one with crutch, standing next to him. Above the one with the crutch were the words, _"Take it from my pal, Jack!"_ Crutchie chuckled at this, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the cold evening.

Then, clutching the sketchbook still, Crutchie curled up next to Jack and quickly dozed off, too, both boys smiling in their sleep.


End file.
